Devonte was worried for Dad had not come home for dinner.  The fourteen-year-old ate alone because his mother was away for the week with her mother.  It was not that he was alone that worried the young man but what his dad might be doing.  A few times that he knew about in the past he had heard his father come home late and then his parents would yell about it.  He had to look up what DUI meant also learning how dangerous it was at the same time.© YLeeCoyote

It was not being alone but what really dangerous things dad might be doing that caused him to worry.  All he could do was hope his dad would get safely home.  He had gotten ready for bed at the regular time but could only toss and turn once he got into bed.  He worried that the doorbell might ring with a cop saying “I regret to report that there has been an accident and your father is dead.”

Actually there was something new to him that he was doing.  He was sobbing with worry.  He did not understand why he was crying for when he got hurt playing roughly with his friends he did not cry.

It was well past midnight when he heard the noise of a car in the driveway.  It was not the usual noise but that of a car bumping things.  He rejoiced that his father was home – safe – but terribly upset that he was obviously under the influence.

“What to do?” was the question.  It was the biggest question he ever faced.

He heard Dad yelling into the refrig about stop hiding the tomato juice which is what Mother always made him drink in his current state.  He hoped that would help.  Ditto the coffee he was making and drinking.  Next Dad came upstairs and yelled about where his PJ’s were.  Shortly after that he went storming to his den.

Devonte also remembered another thing that his mother would yell – “You’re a very naughty boy.”  He could not help rubbing his butt when he thought what happened when he was naughty.  He also recalled how Grandpa joked with dad about the trips to the woodshed and how effective they were.  One trip that was vividly mentioned several times was when dad came home drunk when he was in high school.  If only Gramps were here rather than at his home.  Devonte hadn’t any doubt about what he would do.

But Gramps was not here now any more than Mom was.  “I must be the adult and take charge and do the right thing.” he told himself repeatedly to work up the necessary courage.

When he got to the top of the stairs, he saw that the light was on in the open door den which is where he was always taken for these discussions.  Somehow that increased his resolve and he marched right into the den.

“YOU HAVE BEEN A VERY NAUGHTY BOY DRIVING UNDER THE INFLUENCE OF ALCOHOL!  If Grandpa was here, he would take you to the woodshed and roast your butt with his heavy razor strop as he did when you came home drunk when you were sixteen.”  He roared as he was waving the heavy hairbrush like it was a short sword making his old man cringe.  “I must act in your father’s stead.”

Dad did not give a coherent response because of some combination of inebriation, shock at threats of CP and the sight of his teary son with the evil hairbrush.  If he had been totally sober he would had his son over his lap and turning his bare ass fiery red for such insolent sass in an instant.  Perhaps his angry, teary son had made him feel like he was the naughty youth of old.  Perhaps because of the horrid truth of matter.  Perhaps other things.  It matters not.

“Kneel on the seat and over the back of that chair.  You are getting the spanking that you richly deserve for being a very naughty boy.”  Devonte was most aggressive but well directed.  He surely would have fled back upstairs had his father resisted just a bit but instead the youth was encouraged to continue.  He got into position and gave the presented butt a few hard WHACKS.  The screams testified to that.  He took it a step further and yanked down his dad’s PJ’s.  He continued to WHACK the bare butt until it was glowing crimson and feeling like there were two novae were inside.

Suddenly he sensed that it was time to stop whacking his father’s butt so he did.  “Go pee and get to bed, apple butt.” he ordered.  Then exhausted both physically and mentally sort the solace of his own bed.

However, back in bed again he was tossing and turning although this time he was not worrying about drunk driving but what would happen tomorrow.  Only one thought seemed to hold promise – call Gramps and get his advice.

Of course, he could not call at this hour so he sent an email.

* * * * * * * * * *

It was midmorning when Devonte awoke.  He was terribly confused by what occurred just a few hours ago.  The house was very quiet except for his dad’s snores.  He feared what might happen so he quickly showered, dressed and went for breakfast.  He was pleasantly surprised to be greeted by his grandpa which was a relief.  It was an even greater relief to be taken out for breakfast where he explained all.

Back home, the necessary although scary discussion came to be.  This time the discourse about the long past strapping was not a joking matter.  Gramps was upset and angry while Dad was timid and subdued like Devonte had never seen him before.

Eventually things came to a head when Grandpa said “You broke your promise, son.  I am greatly disappointed.  We will have to continue that discussion we started when you were sixteen.”  Both Devonte and his dad looked confused.  “You promised NEVER to drive when you were drunk.  Last night you broke that promise and I understand a mess of times in the last couple of years.  That is totally UNACCEPTABLE!”

Dad tried to speak but the words did not come.

“That’s right, there is nothing to say.  You have forgotten that important lesson so it needs to be repeated.  We don’t really need the woodshed.  I’m sure you recollect this.”  Gramps interrupted his speech and held up an ancient razor strop.

After a minute he added  “I see in your eyes that you remember it but obviously you need to be reminded of how it feels.  Drop your pants and assume the position.  It is time to repeat the lesson of years ago as you have forgotten it.”

“But Daddy you can’t do that.” pleaded the naughty man like he was a child.

“I can and I shall – here and now.  Get into position instantly or there will be many extras, boy.”

“Undies down also, boy!” snapped Grandpa.  Devonte watched in awe.

He obeyed and Gramps got into position.  Then he started swinging the thick strop.  The heavy leather rose and fell.  Each time it fell it left an angry wide red stripe.  These quickly merged leaving a solid red backside.  By now Devonte’s jaw was sagging.

Gramps kept at this for ten minutes with the heavy cuts appropriate for a full-grown man.  Soon the man was begging and promising like he had when he had been sixteen.  Perhaps he was even sobbing a bit.  Soon he was standing in the corner with his hands on his head for an hour.

“Hang this on your closet door.” ordered Grandpa handing his son the strop and a hook.  “It needs to be there as a reminder and to be handy.  Do it now.”  The order and the two items the were identical when Dad was fifteen.

“The strop is not to be used on Devonte ever.  It is to be used by him – as my proxy  – on you whenever you break your promise again.  Understood?”

“Yes, father.”

“And you, young man, had best not use that strop without good cause or you yourself will feel it.”

“Yes, Grandfather.  I understand and thank you very much.”